Dogs are People Too
by CouslandSpitFire
Summary: A collection of drabbles and vignettes about the Warden's mabari Fang and his pack of bipeds. No chronological order, might contain strong language and hints of romance in certain chapters.
1. Cheesy Love

**Cheesy Love**

The Warden had noticed very well that her mabari had chosen a new favorite. Throwing a glance over her shoulder she could see Fang prance around Alistair, his eyes fixed on the man. The dog smacked his lips in anticipation, throwing the warrior love-sick looks from under long lashes. Rolling her eyes she turned to look back forward, but could easily hear the excitement in her hound's bark and knew without looking that he was jumping around his new victim like a little puppy.

"You just like me because I have cheese", Alistair accused after some moments, a grumble in his voice. "Don't think I'm that stupid. I realize very well that you're only friendly when I have food. As soon as my hands are empty, you'll return to your mistress, pretending nothing happened between us."

At that Fang gave a low whine in protest.

"No, don't even try it. You'll just use me – and then leave you'll me behind, lonely and depraved even of the comfort of cheese", the warrior answered and managed a choked snuffle to accentuate his emotional pain. Her mabari whimpered intently, probably etching closer to the man by now, nuzzling him in the side with his cold nose.

"I have feelings, too, you know. You hurt me, every time you – _ACK_!", his sentence ended abruptly with his cry of surprise and before the Warden could turn around, she heard a loud thud and a suffocated groan from her fellow Grey Warden. As she moved to see what happened, she had her hands already on her daggers, ready to fend off any attackers. The only problem Alistair had, however, was a gigantic mabari on his chest, licking his face with utmost care.

"Stop it, Fang! _Ewww_! Stop it, I said!" She listened intently to the man's desperate screams and could not help but chuckle. Her faithful hound had his big paws on Alistair's shoulders, holding him down with his weight, and his tiny tail was wagging so hard that his whole hind quarter was yanked this way and that. Trying to stifle her amusement she raised a hand to cover her mouth, but Alistair had already heard her. He had his arms up in front of his face, trying to defend himself against the slobbery onslaught, but whenever he was able to fend off one attack, Fang would go for another weak spot. By now he had carefully rearranged the warrior's hair and his mistress' chuckle only egged him on further. He gave a happy bark and licked over Alistair's nose with enthusiasm.

"_Ewww_!", the man uttered again in disgust, "What have you been _eating_? Were you at Oghren's small cloths again?" At that he blanched visibly, shuddering with the mental image. "Oh Maker, please…", he began, but his prayer was cut short when his comrade burst out in laughter unable to contain herself anymore, holding her sides and blindly reaching out with one hand in search for something to help steady her. He scowled at her with narrowed eyes.

"He wants to show you how much he loves you, Alistair," she said, only just suppressing her laughter, "He'd never just cast you aside like a cheap tavern wench, isn't that right, boy? Yes, Alistair needs some love, yes he does!", she cooed and Fang's ears perked up at that. He straightened up and glanced down at the warrior he had at his mercy, his eyes big and excited. A string of drool slowly detached itself from his muzzle, dripping down ever so laggardly until it hit Alistair's neck with a wet sound.

"_Ew_. If he loves me so much, why does he try to drown me…?", he asked with a deep sigh, giving up his struggle and letting his arms sink. Fang took that as invitation to lick his face again until he reached one ear, where he proceeded to sniff intently until the warrior started to squirm.

Finally, taking mercy, the Warden stepped closer to put a hand on her hound's back, gripping his fur softly and giving it a tug. "Enough, Fang, I think you made your point. Let him get up", she said and almost made it until the end of the sentence, before she burst out into another fit of giggles. Only almost.

When the mabari finally moved back to sit on his haunches, watching his humans intently, she reached down to give Alistair a hand in getting back up. Her comrade grasped her hand and pulled himself up, his lips curled into grimace as he tried to wipe his face – a task that was rather difficult with gauntlets made mostly of metal. "So I need some love, eh?", he asked dryly, turning his gaze at her.

She giggled and lifted a hand to try and smoothen his hair a bit, the mischievous twinkle evident in her eyes. "Can't let him deprive you of cheese _and_ love."

xxx

This is the first piece I have fabricated - and again I want to thank _BeautifulApparition_ for beta-reading this. =) Thanks, honey! It is really, really appreciated. I hope to update this with more little scenes of how Fang interacts with the group members. In this one I still did not name the Warden, because I think it might be easier to make her your own that way and because I myself often stumble over names that sound so much unlike my Warden that I need time to get into the story (Plus, I despise the name Elisa, because it just doesn't fit. Fergus, Bryce, Aedan - all these names are Irish or Gaelic and have a meaning, but Elisa does not. In fact, Elisa does not fit into the picture I created in my mind, to me personally it just has no ring, but that is just a pet-peeve of mine, I guess.) As long as she is not a center point, she can stay the faceless and nameless Human Noble Rogue that she is, I guess. I might however decide to write the one or the other piece with my very own Warden in there and do sincerly hope that this will not put you off, should I indeed do that at some point. *coughs* In any case, I would be happy to read reviews, as always and hope that you enjoyed reading this. =)


	2. Fraternization

_**Fraternization**_

„Come here little kitty!", Leliana cooed and crouched down to have a better look. Two golden eyes peered out at here from the dark shade under the wagon, unblinkingly fixated on her. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!", she tried again, holding out a piece of dried meat. She could see the eyes moving closer and the faint silhouette of the small cat became visible now. Its pawed etched forward slowly before it struck out at the piece in a snake-quick motion, ripping it from her fingers. Leliana could see its rosy tongue as it licked its mouth and etched a bit further towards her, looking at her hands intently.

"Vashedan", she heard Sten's voice from behind her as he stepped closer. "We have things to do, there is no time for this pointless antics of yours." He sounded gruff, as always, but the bard simply giggled. "Why, do I detect a hint of jealousy?", she asked and let her fingers dance over the ground, catching the cat's attention. The eyes followed her movements and she came even closer, finally jumping out from under the wagon to size the woman's fingers. Leliana moved too fast, however, causing the animal to sprint after her hand and double back whenever she would change direction. "Would you like to oversee her training, Sten?", she asked and giggled as he heaved an exasperated sigh, turning away abruptly to leave before she could say more. He was too slow, however. "Softie", she said and formed each syllable carefully and clearly. The quanari stopped for a moment, then he proceeded to walk away, obviously in no mood to try and argue with her.

Leliana turned her attention back to the cat – it looked a bit too thin, but was a beautiful little thing. The few patches of white were intermixed with red and black, giving her the look of a patchwork blanket as she moved back and forth, nearly stumbling over her own feet. With a smile the bard slowed her hand and let the feline finally catch her fingers. She winced a bit as it bit down hard at first, but eventually the cat started to lick the fingers instead, probably because they still tasted of meat. Quickly Leliana produced another piece from her pocket and gave it to the cat, who eagerly took it from her fingers and started gulping it down.

"My, you are hungry, aren't you? Poor little thing. Here, let me get that thistle out of your fur, hm?", she whispered softly and managed to actually pull the animal onto her lap. It struggled against her grip at first, but when she offered another piece of meat, it decided to eat it right then and there. Humming Leliana worked the knots out of its fur, finally removing the thistle. Despite the ragged looks of the kitten, its fur felt silken and soft under the bard's fingers and she giggled in delight, when the animal leaned into her touch for a short moment. No sooner was she done that the kitten jumped from her lap, darting behind the wagon again. With a sigh the bard stood up and turned around, stopping in her tracks as she realized Fang was sitting right behind her.

He panted, his tongue lolling out, but his tail was unmoving and he looked at her from under half-closed eyelids. Hadn't she known better, she would have guessed that was an expression of disapproval. He shifted his gaze from her to the wagon, from where a low hiss resounded, and then back to her. Leliana threw a glance over her shoulder quickly, then she looked back at him. His gaze still lingered on her, unblinking.

"Uhm…", the bard uttered in bewildered, "I just gave her some meat. She looked really hungry. She is such a tiny little thing, no?" The mabari averted his gaze from her and huffed, letting his eyes wander back over to the golden eyes glaring at him and then further to the rest of the group that was trying to haggle with a dwarven merchant. Leliana watched him and raised an eyebrow at his unusual behavior. "Do you want a piece of meat, boy?", she cooed then and pulled one from her pack to hold it in his direction. He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, but did not react in any other way – well, except for the thin thread of drool that slowly slopped down from his muzzle while he tried to pretend he was as unfazed as a statue would be.

"Who's a good boy, hm? Look what I've got here for you", she tried again, this time crouching down to. She smiled at him and waved the meat a little bit in case he had not noticed it. A faint mewl reached her ears and she peered over her shoulder to see the cat etching a bit closer again, her eyes still wary and her movements slow and cautious.

It was at this moment that Fang got up, snorted – Leliana was absolutely sure he had snorted – and trotted off without sparing her another glance. He cut through the crowd of people, who had to make way for him as he forced his way through them, pushing legs aside rudely and making people trip helplessly over him. As he reached the others, he sat down next to his mistress, leaning heavily against her, and made her stumble a bit at the unexpected weight. She quickly adjusted her stance and put a hand on his head, rubbing him behind one ear. When he turned his head to look back at the bard, his nose twitched in something that could only be disgust, just to snuggle even closer to the Warden and turn his gaze away from the bard.

Leliana blinked and raised the other eyebrow as she stared at the dog. As the kitten darted out from under the wagon to snatch the meat from her, she heard Zevran clicking his tongue as he walked over to her, a grin plastered on his face. "Ah, my lovely lady…", he greeted her and chuckled, "I see you fraternized with the enemy. Such betrayal."


	3. Unsubtle Threats

_**Unsubtle Threats**_

Zevran Aranai was a pretty good assassin, even if not the best. He had potential and that had kept him alive over the last few years and granted him some nice contracts. While he was above average, he was not among the very best. With this knowledge he had taken an impossible contract: To kill the last remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden. He had made the highest bid and that had not been very difficult. Not many had been keen on this mission. It was a suicide mission if he had ever seen one, and should have meant death either by the hands of the fabled Grey Wardens themselves or by the Crows upon failing. Ultimately, that had been his reason to take it. He had come to die and as he had been laying on his back, a dagger hold to his throat and one of those Grey Wardens straddling him, her eyes grey fire, he had thought he had reached his goal.

He had laughed then, had been glib. Not because he hadn't been afraid, but because he was searching death – and death at the hands of a beautiful woman was even better than death at the hands of some random warrior. But she had looked at him and listened and then she had let him live. It puzzled him, to say the least. She had simply stood up, sheathing her daggers, and thrown him a last glance before she turned around. "Come, we need to bandage your wounds", she had said and walked off, expecting him to follow.

So while he knew perfectly well how he had ended up here in this camp, in the midst of a very strange group, it still puzzled him. The Warden had let him live in exchange for a promise, just like that. She had bandaged his wounds, allowed him to rest under her vigilant watch and then she had led the group on. A smile crept onto his lips as he turned to look at her as she emerged from her tent. She had slipped out of her armor and wore nothing more than her tunic now, which was riding up her thighs as she stretched with a satisfied moan.

Yes, that woman was indeed a deadly sex-goddess, so much was sure. He had watched her, watched in battle where her movements almost looked like a dance, raining blows and thrusts in quick succession and with deadly precision, spinning out of harm's way all the while. His gaze traveled up her long legs – _marvelously long_ – and over her flat stomach – _pale and soft skinned_, he knew that much by now, having help to dress her wounds. He let his eyes roamed further up her slender figure, taking in the soft curve of her bosom, finally unrestricted by her chest bindings – _small, but tender_; just the right size to fit into the palm of his hand – and further up to her face. She had her eyes closed and a smile on her face, enjoying the cold breeze on her skin, and his smile widened. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen – there had been beauties from Rivai with dark skin and even darker eyes; he had seen the noble women at the Orlesian court, clad in silk with pale skin and alluring smiles and graceful elven girls, their features far more delicate and their eyes like the sea and the forest all at the same time. No, his lovely Warden was not the most beautiful woman, she was too grim for that, her eyes too hard and her smile too hesitant. She couldn't be described as pretty, either, not when she brought death with a single movement and commanded her hound to _rip them apart_. But she was something else altogether, strong and dangerous and bewitching like few other women. She was something else altogether, because she was the kind of woman who threw herself at emissaries to protect her comrades, who shouted angry insults at an ogre for daring to lay a finger on her dog, who kept on going even when she was broken and bleeding.

Zevran also knew without doubt that a night spent with her would be delicious and unforgettable. A night with those long legs wrapped around him, a night in which he could make her smile and moan and-

The elf looked around when he grew aware of a set of eyes lingering on him. The Warden's mabari, Fang, was sitting just on the other side of the fire, his dark eyes fixed on Zevran, almost unblinking. Only after a few moments the animal let his tongue loll out and panted once and then twice, before sitting down, never looking away. The assassin raised an eyebrow quizzically, but Fang just kept sitting and staring.

"What are you up to now?", Alistair suddenly asked, appearing at his side. He had removed his armor, but still wore his gauntlets and boots. His gaze showed suspicion as always and Zevran finally looked away from the dog, a grin pulling at his lips. The young warrior only wiped the look of distrust from his face on rare occasions. He was vigilant and certainly not as trusting as his fellow Grey Warden. Well, save for those moment when he got… distracted – by none other than his fellow Grey Warden. Zevran had the impression it was something sexual, especially with the way Alistair kept looking at her. But then, Zevran had that impression about most things…

"Why, what should I be up too, my handsome Templar?", he asked and almost chuckled when Alistair immediately took a step backwards, careful to keep his distance. "I'm not a Templar", he clarified and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And I will keep my eyes on you", he warned him before he finally turned to open the buckles of his gauntlets. At that Zevran laughed heartily, putting his chin in his hand as he watched Alistair, his eyes lingering on the broad shoulders and the delightfully taunt muscles that he could make out underneath the tunic. Well, the warrior was a prize to be had, too, but it would be quite challenging to make him jump borders. Especially because he didn't get half of the lewd comments the elf let fall then and again.

"If you want to look, all you need to do is ask. I will show you whatever you like", he practically purred with a grin, fully aware that he would just make the warrior bristle and blush. It was an amusing part-time, much more fun than to try and talk to Sten or get Morrigan to loosen up a bit. It took a moment, but as soon as the meaning registered, Alistair started to fidget sure enough, his back growing stiff as he threw Zevran a glance over his shoulder, the blush evident on his cheeks. "Maker help me, then", he bit out and hastily pulled of his gauntlets.

Satisfied by that reaction, Zevran turned to catch a glimpse at the Warden again, but she had already turned her attention towards her mabari. The dog trotted over to her, rubbing his big head against her thigh with a low rumbling sound that Zevran could hear all the way over to where he was sitting. She crouched down to take his head between her hands, rubbing her thumbs over his skull and the animal closed his eyes in pleasure. When she stood up again to move off towards the river, the hound opened his eyes again and they immediately landed on Zevran. He started to move towards him slowly and there was a tension in his body that made the elf uneasy. Carefully he shifted his weight and got up, never looking away from the approaching dog. When Fang reached the camp fire, he lowered his head to sniff at the heap of firewood. After a moment he closed his jaws around the biggest log and started to pull it from the stack. It was easily as thick as Alistair's upper arm and nearly as long, but the mabari lifted it after just a short struggle and brought it over to the elf, where he let it drop. Their eyes locked again and Fang wagged his tail, just once, cocking his head to the side ever so lightly.

Zevran raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the log: "You want me to throw that?" The mabari let his tongue loll out, panting patiently without so much as blinking. Now the assassin raised his other eyebrow and felt something akin to nervousness stir in him. "I'm afraid, my smelly little friend, you'll need to ask the quanari for that favor. Throwing tree trunks was not part of my job description", he suggested carefully. At that Fang looked back towards the tree line, where his mistress had vanished, and then back at Zevran. He panted – only two breaths long – and his nose twitched as he stared unblinking. Very slowly he took the branch back between his jaws and raised his head, before he bit it in half with a crunching sound, the wood breaking under the pressure of his jaws with a groan. The pieces dropped to the ground, one by one, landing on the ground in a mound of devastation. Slowly Zevran inclined his head in something akin to a nod and only then the mabari turned away from him, trotting over towards the river to follow his mistress.

"Did our canine companion just threaten me?", the elf finally asked carefully and turned to look at Alistair, who had followed the exchange. The deeply amused grin that lit the warrior's face was enough of an answer, but Alistair still commented gleefully: "He'll snap your elf-y limbs like a tiny twig if you even think of harming her."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I want to thank you guys for your lovely reviews. :) It really makes me very, very happy to read that you enjoy my writing and I hope that now after my holidays are over, I'll be able to write a bit more often and bring some more ideas to paper. If there are any mistakes, please feel free to point them out; my beta is currently very busy with private matters, so I can just hope I didn't make too many mistakes in this one here. :) Thanks again!


End file.
